


"you."

by zacefronspants



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Multi, and fucking alive can i get an amen, everyone is human, everyone might be a little oc, goodbye friends, happy ending friends, i am so sos rry, idk what else 2 tag, slow fucking build, this is super angsty, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacefronspants/pseuds/zacefronspants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall has loved Stiles for years, it just took it awhile to be mutual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"you."

**Author's Note:**

> to clarify: this is really angsty and sad im sorry
> 
> i should have fixed all the typos, if i have missed any, feel free to let me know!

**_“And you’re a liar; at least all of your friends are.”_ **

When he’s seven years old, Lydia Martin breaks his heart for the first time. He knows because he’s friends with Lydia and he saw the whole thing happen.

He makes Lydia a valentine out of crumbled up paper and glitter because Lydia liked glitter. It’s a few days past Valentine’s Day, but Stiles Stilinski didn’t particularly care about being on time, for anything, really.

It’s kind of sad, all messy handwriting and too much glue and glitter, but he shoves in Lydia’s cubby hole anyways and runs off to some corner to watch her receive it. Scott watches with mild fascination as Lydia holds it up between her forefinger and thumb, a shocked look on her face.

“It’s from Smellinksi, isn’t it?” Jackson asks, between fits of laughter and Lydia can’t help but nod.

“It’s kind of sweet,” Allison says, lightly and Scott smiles a little because Allison is always nice to people.

It’s not until Lydia drops the valentine on the floor that Scott gets mad at Lydia because he knows Stiles saw and it probably broke his heart.

And if Scott goes home that night and demands his mom help him make Stiles a valentine and accidentally gets two paper cuts and a bruise on his elbow from running outside to drop ii off to Stiles’ house, then that’s his business and no one else’s. Scott never signs his name onto it because Stiles wanted it to be from Lydia, and it looks like a girl made it, anyways. And if Scott smiles dopey all day at school the next day because Stiles laughed a little louder, then that’s his business.

Scott looks at Lydia a few days later and feels his chest grow cold because Lydia is mean to everyone if they’re not dressed and pressed almost as nicely as she is and it makes her weak, he thinks. And she’s going to continue to be mean to Stiles whenever he stutters out, “Hi Lydia,” and then laugh when Stiles walks away from her with wet eyes. Lydia Martin is a thorn in his side, but Allison is nice to him and she smiles at Stiles a lot, so maybe it’s okay.

Scott comes to the conclusion on the week before spring break, that he can never have Stiles because Stiles is laughing and running and he’s _shiny_ and not for Scott. Scott can’t have nice things because his dad likes to drink until he can’t talk and then his dad’ll scream at his mom and then Scott is crying and his dad is telling him he won’t be anything, ever. Stiles is funny batman jokes and always smells like fresh cookies and Scott is asthmatic and slow sometimes, he’s not enough for Stiles.

**_“...and so am I, just typically drowned in my car.”_ **

Stiles Stilinski has a plan, not a good one, but a plan nonetheless. He may not be popular (he’s not, he’s not even on the radar), but he’s going to be Lydia Martin’s third husband. They’re going to be together one day, she just doesn’t know it.

His plan is simple, he’ll spend his high school career wooing Lydia and making her notice him, then they’ll kiss a little and maybe date, and then they’ll get married after she’s been married a few times. He has it all figured out, if she would just look at him for longer than a few seconds and then start ignoring him. Lydia is smart and so is he, Lydia’s pretty and he’s okay, he guesses. He doesn’t know. Lydia has a brain to mouth filter, he doesn’t; he told Harris how to crucify someone last week while Lydia watched in horror and slight fascination. Lydia is witty and he is too. They’re gonna work.

Except he thinks they won’t sometimes.

Stiles is fourteen and locking himself on the roof with a bottle of his mother’s wine and shouting at the sky because Lydia laughed when he got smacked in the face with a lacrosse ball because Scott wasn’t looking. He yells for a lot of reasons, Jackson got the girl, Scott talks to him when no one is looking, Allison is too pretty, he’s a loser, it goes on and on. Stiles ignores the look of disappointment on his mother’s face when he wakes up on the roof and so hung over his fingers look like worms and his mouth tastes like sand, he just stumbles inside and takes a shower.

Stiles is sitting in chemistry and listening to Scott tell Lydia he doesn’t understand her notes and that he’s going to fail when he stands up and walks out of the class, not looking over his shoulder when Harris threatens to have him suspended. He doesn’t know why he leaves, he thinks it has to do with the prickling sensation at the back of his eyes or maybe the shaking of his hands, he’s not sure.

He’s vaguely aware, a few days after he had an anxiety attack that his mother is telling him he has severe social anxiety and that he has to take these pills that taste like soured milk. He hates them.

Stiles Stilinski is sure of three very important things, one being that Jackson watched him shake and cry in the boys locker room and he’s almost sure that he started the, “Stilinski puked everywhere and then pissed himself,” rumor but he doesn’t know. He’s almost sure that Scott is the one who punched Jackson’s eye. The second thing being, he cannot have pretty things because he will ruin them. He’s reminded of such when he remembers the flowers his mom planted and he trampled on, it was an accident. The last one, Lydia Martin thinks he’s a freak and he agrees with her wholeheartedly.

**_“It’s my party, and I’ll cry to the end.”_ **

He’s not mean to him for the same reasons Lydia’s mean to him. Lydia’s mean to him because he likes plaid and talks too fast. Lydia is mean to him because Stiles doesn’t listen to her when she acts like she’s dumber than what she actually is; Lydia’s mean to him because he’s spastic and loud. Scott’s mean to him because he can’t have him and it’s a stupid attempt to forget that it’s not Allison who makes his palms sweat, it’s Stiles. He’s mean to him because he knows Stiles is something he can’t have. He needs to be rude or ignore him so he can squash the want that curls in his chest.

It never works.

Everyone in his life treats him like he’s stupid, except Stiles. He think it’s because he once said that the answer to a history question was, “Luke’s father was Darth Vader,” and from then on people have just deemed him a playful stupid, but he’s not. And he’s so fucking glad Stiles treats him like he’s not stupid, because he associates being stupid with so many things. Things he doesn’t want to think about or even remember, he’s just glad Stiles is there to pat his shoulder and tell him he’s not stupid. He’s just so glad to have Stiles, even if he doesn’t really have him. He convinces himself that as long as Stiles doesn’t think he’s stupid, he can have him.

He washes that stain away. He keeps talking to Stiles in private places like the library or the computer lab and ignoring him in public settings. He has to do these things because he can’t have him and he’s scared that he’ll see that he’s more than just not being stupid. But as long as Stiles keeps saying he’s not stupid, he’s fucked.

The issue, he finds, is that Stiles still tries to talk to him, all the time. And it’s not that they always talk, just the few times a week in the library when Stiles is yelling quietly about Harris being the reincarnation of some dystopian type leader, Scott can’t remember who. It’s just that whenever they do talk, Scott will be fuddle himself and Stiles will half smile and shake his head telling him that, “You’re not stupid, Scotty boy. Just a little lost,” and it makes his heart clench in the most delicious way.

When he and Allison start dating, it’s a relief almost. He’s not gay, he thinks Danny said it was called pansexual, he can’t remember. Finally, he thinks, he’s put enough of a rift between him and Stiles that he’ll stop thinking about him. He thinks that this’ll be what he needs to stop the demure hope that he and Stiles will ever make it to be more than just sometimes friends or even boyfriends. Once he sees that he’s dating Lydia’s best friend, he’ll stop talking to him and looking at him all the time.

Pay attention to Allison, he tells himself. He can’t have what he wants, but he can at least have something. He can be the best co-captain of the lacrosse team, even if Jackson makes him want to set himself on fire. Forget about Stiles Stilinski.

It works for a while, until Stiles starts dating a pretty girl named Malia. And then Scott is forced to actually talk to him more because Malia is friends with Danny and since Malia likes Stiles and has since claimed him as hers, Stiles is now rudely thrust into their friend group. It’s hard to ignore him when he’s _there every fucking day_ and looks at Lydia like she’s hung the moon. Scott almost breaks up with Allison and leaves to go to a fucking commune, but he doesn’t because Stiles will laugh and he’s pulled back in, hook line and fucking sinker.

**_“And you must try harder, than kissing all of my friends.”_ **

Lately, Stiles wants to just stop going to school and go live with his aunt Derma in the middle of the forest. Give up his plan, give up the entire thing. But then Lydia will smile at him and it’s almost worth is because he’s sort of friends with her now. And then Scott will grin at him and he’s _almost_ okay.

It’s tiresome to watch Lydia and the untouchable Jackson hanging onto her hips. It’s hard to want to go through his plan when he feels like his heart is going to break. It’s hard to take him medication and go to school most days. It’s fucking hard to go to school and live life when he can’t have the thing he wants most.

And right now his hands are shaking and Lydia is in too many places all at once and he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know why she’s above him and below her own neck too. All he can hear is her whispering, “Copy my breathing, you’re having an attack again Stiles,” and shit, yeah he is, but he can’t fucking making his lungs work and it’s getting to hot.  And then Lydia’s smashing her lips to his and he’s waited so long. But Lydia has a boyfriend, a fact that she remembers and leaves immediately after kissing him.

Stiles just tells himself, after he’s calmed down enough, that he’ll just forget about Lydia. But that proves to be difficult because whenever he closes his eyes, he can taste her chap stick and it makes him sick.

When Scott tells him he made fist line, he’s confused. Because he fucking sucks at lacrosse and he only got a those passes in the net because he imagined the ball was Harris and the net was actually just a huge pile of spikes. But he grins and latches himself around Scott and whoops loudly. And he wonders, for a minute, if Lydia will be impressed he made first line. But then Coach Finstock is yelling at him and Scott to stop being so emotional and get back to practice. And he’s almost happy.

He doesn’t see it coming when Scott and Allison part ways because if Scott and Allison don’t work, then there’s no hope. But then Scott is sitting in front of him, a hand print on his cheek as he says, “I kissed Lydia, well, she kissed me, but I didn’t stop her,” and Stiles doesn’t say anything, just punches Scott in the nose and walks away. And Stiles knows, deep down, that it could never work with Lydia and that he shouldn’t be angry with Scott. But he’s just so god damn angry because he and Scott are- _were_ best friends.

And it’s hard to stay angry at him because Scott looks like a sad puppy and it makes him feel like he kicked him (he punched him). But Stiles drives to Scott’s house and climbs the side of his house and crashes through his bedroom window and holds out a fifth of honey whiskey and Scott’s favorite videogame and says, “It’s okay,” and Scott grins like an idiot and hugs him.

It’s not part of how this is supposed to work, his plan he means. Being best friends with Scott and dating Malia, it isn’t part of the plan. None of this is how this is supposed to work.

**_“you.”_ **

There’s two months, two glorious months, where Scott gets to touch and kiss Stiles all he wants too. But when it’s over, he has to think on if it was worth it, if finally getting to feel Stiles leave soft kisses on his neck, was worth it. He decides that it was.

For two months he gets everything he wanted. He gets to lick and suck Stiles’ neck and leave tiny bruises on his collarbones. Two months isn’t nearly enough to kiss and commit everything about Stiles to memory, but it’s his only chance.

He talks to him, when they’re curled around each other and the only light is through the window. And he wonders if this is the only chance he’ll have to hear Stiles hum in his ear and recited his favorite sonnets to Scott.

Choosing between popularity and Stiles is easy; he’d rather spend every day with Stiles than be surrounded by people who make him want to light himself on fire. Not because he’s not sure what he wants, but because seeing him is so much better than not seeing him. But he’s a glutton for punishment and has to see him anyways. So he picks Stiles. Everyone he knows is surprised, including Stiles.

He sees the end before Stiles does, and he guesses he shouldn’t have deluded himself into thinking that they could have made this work. He sees it and it doesn’t stop him from wishing for just little longer.

They’re sitting in the locker room after practice when he feels Stiles plop himself down next to him heavily, a sigh on his lips.

“Do you miss it?”

“Not really no.” It’s not really a lie, but’s it not really the truth either and he knows that Stiles knows that.

Stiles leans into him and whispers, like it’s some kind of fucking secret, “We aren’t going to work,”

“Why won’t we?” And he knows, he fucking knows why, he’s just masochistic and wants to hear him say it.

“I don’t see this working out, Scott.” It’s there, in the air now. He knew it but it fucking stings.

“Cool, was gonna end it anyways,” He wasn’t.

“Nah, you weren’t.” Stiles says grinning like he knows a secret everyone else doesn’t. He supposes he does.

“I was. It’s Lydia right?” He knows it is, he just hopes it’s not.

“You still like Allison.” Stiles says, blandly. And shit, he’s not wrong. But he’s not correct.

“Lydia will never love you, Stiles.” Scott says standing up. He knows it was a shitty thing to say, but he doesn’t care (he does).

“You still like Allison,” Stiles repeats, “it’s why you’re hanging out with her again.” That’s not why, but he’ll humor him anyways.

“Like I said, she’ll never love you.” Scott almost wants to believe he sees Stiles nod.

“I think my problem is that I live too much inside my own head that I can’t see when something won’t happen. It’s probably why I’m not giving up.” And damn, Scott understands. But he wants Stiles too much, not Allison.

“I think our relationship was built on the pretense that we’re both not over someone we want.” Scott laughs. “Like everything else in my life, it probably won’t end great for me.” That’s a lie.

“I just hope we can still, you know, hang out.”

And he tells him the truth, it fucking sucks. But they were never really friends before.

**_“It takes a bit more; yeah it takes a bit more than you.”_ **

He’s angry at himself for being distracted from his plan. Distracted by Scott’s lips, eyes and oh god, his hands. He pulls himself together eventually, but by then he’s got a head full of memories he can’t shake, no matter how much alcohol he drinks. Because he can’t stop thinking about the way Scott whispered his name. Scott McCall isn’t going to be anything other than an old mistake. He needs to get that through his head.

He lost his mind temporarily. He supposes he did it to make Lydia jealous. He half way can’t believe he did it, because Scott was nice and pretty and could have anyone he wanted if he set his mind to it. And then he’d come to a horrifying realization.

Scott was nice, not like Lydia was, if she ever was nice to someone it's because she wanted to be. He could be sweet and he was sweet to him. But the worst part was that Scott chose him over his friends and Lydia will always pick her friends. Scott chose him and Lydia wouldn’t ever. He figured then and there that there had to be an explanation. Scott didn’t choose him, he understands. He picked Allison in some way. That was it, wasn’t it? He loved Lydia, and Scott loved Allison. This thing wouldn’t have worked.

He didn’t deny it, not really, when Stiles confronted him about Allison. He wonders how no one else seems to notice it. He hopes Scott can have Allison because Scott is amazing and he deserves her. He hopes that if Scott gets Allison, then Allison will hint that Lydia should date him. But he doesn’t need a hint. He’s gonna be Lydia’s. Stick to the plan.

Still, sometimes it’s not easy when he wakes up from a dream involving Scott’s lips and hands and abs and Scott, Scott, Scott. He can’t control his dreams, he tells himself. And it’s not bad to dream about Scott, he _is_ hot. And he likes boys as much as anyone else. He’s also sure other boys dream about him too. He’s just not Lydia. And Stiles Stilinski believes in fate.

All he has to do is stick to his plan and get Scott McCall’s perfect kisses out of his head.

**_“You're alive, at least as far as I can tell you are.”_ **

He’s angry when he finds out Lydia’s dating him. And it’s not that he thinks he can _have_ him. He’s known he’ll never be his since he was seven years old, but that doesn’t change the fact that Lydia shouldn’t have him, either. He deserves the world. He wants him to have the world and Goddamn Lydia Martin sure as hell isn’t going to give him that.

His life isn’t something he can share with Stiles. He’s got asthma and an alcoholic father who still calls him to just scream at him. It still amazes him that his mother hasn’t bothered to change their number, but maybe he’s not. He’s still holding onto the hope that his father will clean up long enough for Scott to tell him what a shitty job he did and that his mother did better on her own without him. He turned out okay.

He finds him in the café across from the school, almost like a sixth sense. He clearly knows it’s where he comes to ignore his problems. He thinks it’s about Allison, he knows. He’s never able to see past that façade. Besides, him loving Allison would work in his favor. It’d leave Lydia to him. It _has_ left Lydia to him. It breaks his heart to see him with her. He can see that he's heartbroken, but, of course, he thinks it's about Allison. He sits across from him, all whiskey eyes with too much concern, or too little. He half hates him for caring. If he’d just stop caring, well, that wouldn’t fix it, would it?

“Do you love her?” He asks, and he wants to laugh because he doesn’t love Allison Argent. But he can’t tell him that, so he settles with a halfhearted shrug.

“It’s okay to, you know, still love her. You can’t help who you get hard ons for and stuff,” and it’s _funny_ he would tell him that, he knows that all too well.

“Do you know when I knew she was my soulmate?” He asks, faraway dreamy look on his face. He doesn’t want to hear about him and Lydia, but he can’t think of a good reason to stop him. “I was seven. She didn’t like my valentine. I was distraught. And then, the next day I opened my door and there was one. It was the only one that I cared for, besides the one from my mom. I realized she does like me; she’s just too stubborn to admit it. I still have it,”

Scott couldn’t help himself. He laughs. He starts laughing and he can’t stop. It’s not funny. It’s so far from funny that his chest feels like it’s on fire, but if he doesn’t laugh now, he’s going to cry. He laughs because he made sure he couldn’t have Stiles Stilinski when he was seven years old and he didn’t even know it. He’d spent years trying to make sure he couldn’t have him, turns out he took care of it when he was seven.

Stiles’ face twists into anger and hurt. “What’s so funny?” he snaps. He thinks he’s laughing at him and he’s not, he’s laughing at his own miserable fucked up life.

“I don’t know why I tell you things, Scott.” Stiles is close to punching him and he hates it when he’s angry because of him, but he can’t tell him, so he just stares at him. “Sometimes you’re just such an _ass_.” 

“I know,” it’s true, even if he hadn’t meant to be, then.

“Why are you such a dick to me?” He doesn't wait for an answer. “And then you're sweet and I don't understand it. What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing.” It’s a half truth. He wants to say, he wants to say that he never did _anything_ except rip his heart out and carry it around without even knowing it. He wants to tell him that he did _nothing_ except make him hope that he could be better, different and he didn’t even mean too.

“Then why?” His jaw is tight and his eyes watch him clench and unclench his fists. He doesn’t have an answer, not one he can tell him.

He doesn't mean to do it, he never ever meant to do it, but he's good at making mistakes, so he kisses him. He makes a noise, a little, surprised “oh” as his lips meet his. And he's just like he remembered, and even better. And he's pulling him in, asking for more. He gives it to him, trying to tell him everything,  _everything_ , with his lips and his hands, but he knows it won't work because it's not something he wants to hear.

When they break apart, he’s a little disheveled and he looks like a piece of art this way. He’s always art, but he loves seeing him with swollen lips and knowing _he’d_ done that. Just for an instance, he looks like a piece of art the way he made him. Scott doesn’t get to make beautiful things very often. His eyes are big and wider than usual and he can see the anger creeping back into them.

“Is that your solution, to kiss me?” He asks angrily, all acidic again. He knows he’s angry because he’s Lydia’s for the time being, and he just let him kiss him, encouraged it.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” He stands up because he has to get out of here. He can’t stay an instant longer or he might do something really dumb, dumber than what he’s already done.

“You didn’t even!” He calls out after him as he makes his way to the front of the café. He lets out a bark of mirthless laughter, heavy and sad. Because he had answered the question, he just didn’t understand. He’d answered his question with his lips and with his heart screaming he loves him, always loved him, he will always love him, and he will never be his. That’s why he’s an ass to him.

_**“And so am I.”** _

To be honest, there are a lot of things drive Stiles crazy, but one in particular is not understanding someone. And he finds that he certainly doesn’t understand Scott McCall. With the kiss still heavy on his lips, he sits and stares at his hands. He feels guilty, because he finally has Lydia and then he goes and let’s Scott kiss him. He wanted him to kiss him.

This is Scott McCall. Co-captain of the lacrosse team, even his asthma and alcoholic father who shows up to the school sometimes. Sure, those things aren’t Scott’s fault, but he’s not supposed to like Scott. And after the whole Lydia and Aiden fiasco, he’s pretty sure he’s it for Lydia and anything else will end in heartbreak. Besides, he has Lydia. And Lydia’s starting to love him, so everything is perfect. That’s the mantra he repeats in his head for a little while.

Yeah, everything is perfect until he finds out about Scott. And then nothing is perfect. He just doesn’t understand how Lydia could have done that to him. How could she have fucked him and acted like it wasn’t a big deal? You shouldn’t lie about things like that.

And Scott, Scott is just always stuck in the middle of their fights, Stiles almost feel guilty about it. But he fucked Lydia when Scott knew perfectly well how much Stiles loved her. So he takes him home, and punches him so hard he thinks he might’ve bruised his knuckles and what’s worse is that Scott just shrugged and went into his house, closing the door behind like it was another day at the office. And maybe he shouldn’t have punched him, but he wants Scott to feel what he feels.

Stiles drives home and drinks too much honey flavored whiskey, and it stops before he develops alcohol poisoning because his mother makes him go to bed and he almost wants to throw a fit until she hands the bottle back, but he doesn’t. He just slips into bed and sleeps until he’s three hours late for school.

His mother comes in and hands him to pills and says, “You’re too old to be acting like a seven year old,” and he almost says something sarcastic, but he doesn’t.

When Lydia finds out he punched Scott, she laughs and says that it’s cute he cares so much. He hates Lydia for it, almost. He shrugs it off, because he supposes he deserves it, he overreacted. They weren’t even together then.

_“ **You beat me down and then we’re back to my car,”**_

When Lydia and Stiles announce they’re moving to Stanford, his stomach falls into his shoes. And it’s not because it’s Lydia Martin, it’s because he knows that Stiles is pushing his own dreams aside to accommodate Lydia’s. He’s sick because he knows he’s shoving himself to the back burner again. He’s losing himself to do it for her. And that’s what he can’t stand.

The fact that the plans fall apart make him fill with a sick sense of glee and relief. Because he loves Claudia, he loves her. He cares about all of them. But he’s thinks it’s a saving grace that Claudia got sick. He wants Stiles to have everything to have everything he wants and hates Lydia for being so selfish.

And then he finds out there’s a definitive possibility he might be leaving to live with his grandma in Minnesota. How the hell is he supposed to focus on classes when his mother is saying that he might have to live in fucking Minnesota because it’ll be better if he’s not in the same state as his father? But he’s _trying_. He’s really trying. And when Stiles offers support he almost feels guilty for loving him. Almost.  

He gets into Harvard and he’s not surprised at all. He’s always known he was too special for a place like this. This place was for already washed up people like him. He’s glad he’s getting out, but he thinks without him here, he should go somewhere too. Not Massachusetts or anything, even he’s not the stupid. Los Angeles, maybe, he could probably make an honest living off playing the guitar or something. He’s never going to be _anyone_ , but he could be not someone in a better than Beacon Hills.

When he finds out Lydia’s arrange to send Stiles off to Harvard and parting ways, he believes that Lydia maybe loved him. Because if she _didn’t_ love him, she wouldn’t have done that. Scott understands. He knows how hard it is to not have the boy you love. God, does he know. But he’s happy, because he’s back on track, because somewhere along the way, him getting his dream became his dream.

He goes to the train station, with the rest of them. He goes and he waves goodbye to her and he feels happy. He’s spent half his life in love with a boy who doesn’t love him back, that’s leaving, and that could be years before he sees. It’s a hard pill to swallow. And yet, he’s going. And he knows, with absolute certainty that he’s going to set the world on fire.

_**“And it’s ironic, how it’s only been a year,”** _

He can’t believe he’s been away from home for a year. He can’t believe he’s already top of his class. He can’t believe he found love several times over and lost each one. He can’t believe a lot of things. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to do. He thinks he’s made it. And his plan for Lydia, marrying her, doesn’t seem to feel right or fit into it’s box. First love is strong, but it isn’t always right. He’s come to terms with that now. The longer he’s away from her, the more it feels like it may never fit again. And maybe there isn’t such a thing as soulmates. Maybe that was something he told himself when he was sad and lonely and needed something to hold onto. But he's okay now. He's himself. And he doesn't  _need_  Lydia the way he did in high school.

The day of his last exam, he thinks he’s going to die. Is it possible to die from anxiety? Judging on how he feels, he’ll go with a whopping yes. It’s going to be okay, he tells himself, because his dad and his mom will be picking him up from the airport in two days, hell even Lydia will be there.  And so what if Scott’s not gonna be there either? He called and had given him his version of a pep talk. He’ll be okay.

It goes well, he tells himself. He knew it would be, even if it’s a bit of a life. He finds dad and hugs him so tightly his fingers turn blue. His mother just smiles and kisses his head and he sees Lydia with Allison and he feels a pang of regret wash over him. He will never admit that he’s disappointed Scott didn’t’ show up.

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, the excuse that he had a long flight is on his lips before he even realizes it He looks in the mirror and can’t bring himself to stop staring. He’s got dark circles and his lips are chapped. He looks awful.

A shadow emerges behind him and he panics. He turns around harshly and freezes. Because he hadn't expected him to be here, even if there was that tiny, tiny part of him that had hoped and then felt foolish for doing so.

“Scott?”

“Hey.” He shoots him a half smile, and he’s not changed. In fact, it doesn’t look like he’s changed at all and he hasn’t seen him in months, heard from him in months.

“Scott what’re you doing here?” There’s only one answer, really, but he can’t quite believe it.

“What? You’d think I’d really not come see you home?” And the thing is, that's why he'd been hoping, because he's _always_ been there. Whenever he really needed someone, he'd always been the one to show up. He loved Lydia with all his heart, but if he's being honest, Scott had always been the one to show up first.

“Why weren't you with everyone else?” He chokes out, feeling tears prick his eyes.

“I didn't come to see everyone else.”

Stiles swallows, standing up. “Don't you want to see them? We're going out in a minute.”

Scott shrugs. “Not really. It's not their moment. I didn't drive my ass across the country to get counseled by our friends. Trust me, after 44 hours in my truck, I don't need to hear life advice from Allison”

“Why did you come? If it was such a pain?” He doesn't know why he's feeling resentful all of a sudden. Maybe because, if he was so important, he probably should have called sometime. At least once. Ever.

Scott sighs, a big, full body sigh. “Because I've known this day was coming since I was seven years old and fuck if that's not worth 44 hours in a beat up old truck.”

Stiles softens steps towards him. “Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn't be anywhere else,” he tells him and all of a sudden more than anything he just wants to be close to him, so he hugs him, and he's warm and perfect and he forgot how strong he was.

“You look awful,” he tells him, and he knows, because Scott McCall is who he is, that he means that with all his heart.

_**“And it’s not my fault, that I’ve fucked everybody here.”** _

He drives back to Los Angeles almost immediately. He didn’t come to see everyone. He came with one singular purpose and with that purpose fulfilled; he didn’t feel like sticking around. He’d meant what he said; he didn’t want to see the others. He loved them, but he didn't want to see them. He’d just wanted, needed, to see him. It makes him sad he lied and said he wouldn’t come. He’d have been a lot happier. He wishes he could change that, but it’s done and over with. He’s come to accept it.

But when he gets back, all he can do is think of him. In their months apart, he'd nearly fooled himself into thinking he didn't want him anymore. And now he's back to knowing that that is, in fact, a laughably huge lie. So he's not thinking straight when he packs up everything he owns, not that there's a lot of it, and turns right back around to drive back to Beacon Hills.

Once he gets there, he doesn't call him. He doesn't contact him at all. He just needed to be closer. Beacon Hills is cheap. He stays anyway. He gets a job. He starts to save. In the evening he sneaks into his the stupid café he works at. He goes every night. He doesn't tell him. He doesn't say anything at all. It continues until he catches him.

“Scott?” A hand on his arm. It could only be him. He'd just slipped outside the cafe. He turns slowly to him.

“Busy tonight, innit Stiles,” he tells him, because really, fuck, what else is there to say?

“What are you doing here? When did you get into town?” He's looking at him with confused brown eyes. God, he's so beautiful.

He shrugs. “A while ago.” He can't tell him the truth. It will sound crazy.

His face is crinkled in confusion. “Was that you, the other night, then?” So he  _had_  seen him, then. He'd thought so. He shrugs again.

“Why didn't you call me? What are you doing here?”

“Uh,” he scuffs his shoe on the ground. “I kind of live here now,” he admits.

“You what?!” His voice goes up a couple of pitches when he's upset. “And you didn't tell me?!”

Scott looks at his shoes. “I didn't want to bother you,” he says slowly.

“Bother me?” he's looking at him like he's gone absolutely insane. “We're  _friends_  , you're supposed to tell your friends stuff like this!”

He doesn't want to be friends with him. He wants so much more than that. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” He can tell he's trying to figure him out. If he refuses to see what he thinks should have been obvious for years, he's never going to do it. “Scott, what's going on?”

And he's tired of fighting it. He's tired of walking away because he knows it's no use. He's tired of this whole Goddamn thing. So he  _doesn't_  fight it. He pulls him to him and he kisses him. He kisses him with everything in him, with all the pain he's felt over the years and all the longing he's done and all the misery at knowing he can't have him. When he breaks away he's left gasping.

“It's about  _that_ , okay? It's always been about that.” He shakes his head, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Because it's always been you and you never saw it. Because I couldn't tell you because I wanted you to have the world and I could never ever give you that. I've always known I didn't fit in Stiles Stilinski’s perfect life plan.” And he turns on his heel and walks away, because rejecting himself is easier than hearing it from him.

_**“It takes a bit more; yeah it takes a bit more than you,”** _

He leaves him with his fingers pressed to his lips in disbelief. He leaves him reeling. He's known Scott McCall for nearly his entire life and he has never, not once in all that time, thought something like this was going to happen. He tries to think back, to see if he should have seen it coming, but he can't find the signs anywhere.

In elementary school he'd ignored him, the same for middle school. In high school he'd started out as cruel. And yes, he'd grown softer, nicer. There had been those two months, but he'd been hung up on Allison, hadn't he? He digs out the memory of them on the benches in the locker room. He'd recognized his love for Lydia and he'd.... he'd assumed that he'd been in love with Allison. He hadn't ever admitted, had he? He just hadn't denied it either.

He remembers the other day in the cafe, when he'd kissed him and left him there. “Why are you so mean to me?” he'd asked. And he'd kissed him. He remembers the kiss, desperate, pushing, asking for something, trying to tell him something. It had been his answer, he realizes, now. He just hadn't seen it. “I wanted you to have the world and I could never ever give you that,” he'd just said to him. He was trying to tell him.

He walks slowly home, trying to remember everything that's ever happened between him and Scott McCall. He wishes he'd known sooner, but... would that have changed anything? He'd said it and he'd thought it himself; Scott McCall didn't fit in the plan. Except, now, there wasn't a plan.

He reaches his apartment and hikes up the stairs. It's dark a quiet. Erica and Malia have already gone to sleep. He tiptoes into his room and closes his door. He glances at the bookshelf. There's a picture of he and Lydia on it. He doesn't keep it because he thinks they'll always get back together, he keeps it to remind him what it's like to be in love. Next to it is glitter infested, sad, Valentine. Stiles picks it up, staring at it. He remembers telling Scott the story, remembers the way he'd laughed.

And there's a growing suspicion in him, one that both terrifies and excites him. He pulls out his cellphone and scrolls through his contacts until he finds him. He's half afraid his number has changed. It rings. Once. Twice.

The line clicks active, but he doesn't say anything.

“Scott?”

“Yeah.” It's quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

“When we were seven, the Valentine, was that you?”

There's the sound of him exhaling heavily. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” He's silent for a minute.

“Yeah, it was me.”

“Why did you let me believe it was Lydia?” He doesn't understand him one bit.

“Because it didn't matter. It wasn't about getting  _credit_  for it. I just wanted you to be happy.” His explanation hurts, in both a good way and a bad one. He feels tears coming.

“But if I'd known....” he doesn't know how to finish the sentence. If he'd known, what? Would anything have really been different? He doesn't know.

“If you'd known, it wouldn't have meant so much. You wanted it to be from Lydia, so you believed it was.” His voice is gruff, he wishes he could see him.

“You still should have told me. Later, at least. That day at the cafe.”

“I  _did_  tell you, Stiles,” he says. He's talking about the kiss. “You didn't want to know.”

He closes her eyes. “I'm sorry.”

He's quiet again. “I'm not.” And he hangs up the phone.

_**“And I say. Do you wanna dance?”** _

Three days later, he texts him an address and a time. He goes, because, who is he kidding, he's always going to go where he wants him. It's a bar, which surprises him. He doesn't think of Stiles as the bar type. Then again, he may have changed a lot since Harvard. He wouldn't know. He hasn't been around.

He finds him inside, sipping a drink and eyeing the dance floor. He smiles softly when he sees him and it's a new look for him. He doesn't know if he wants to know why he's called him here. Everything is different now. He's so used to pretending around him.

He holds a hand out to him and he takes it, him leading him to the dance floor. He hasn't danced in ages, but it's a slow song and he twines his arms around his neck and presses himself close. He forgets to breathe for a few moments. He wants to remember everything about this, because half of him is sure he's going to wake up any second.

They stay like that for a long time and he never, ever wants to let him go. He doesn't know what will happen when this moment ends. Scott McCall never saw himself ending up here. And there's always going to be Lydia, isn't there?

And after what seems like both seconds and hours at the same time, he stands on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

“Take me home.” He thinks his heart stops, but this all seems too good to be true. After years of telling himself he can't have Stiles Stilinski, it simply can't be this easy.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea,” he murmurs back.

“Why not?”

“I'm not part of the plan, remember?” He knows it sounds bitter the instant it comes out.

He smiles at him. “There is no plan anymore, Scott.” And he lets that sink in for a moment. It does and he can feel the hope swelling in his chest. It's terrifying.

“Take me home,” he says again. And this time, he does.

_**“Do you wanna dance, dance in the back of the hall?”** _

If someone had told him in high school that the happiest he'd ever be would be waking up in Scott McCall's arms, he would have told them they were crazy. He's going to Harvard. He's going to be something. He's going to marry Lydia Martin and have two kids and live in the suburbs and everything is going to be perfect. That's the plan.

That was the plan. And now it's not. H's gotten a lot of what he'd wanted back then. He's on his way to being a damn good lawyer. He's well on his way to being someone. But there's where that plan ended and he couldn't be happier about it. Lydia Martin was his first love, she wasn't  _the_  love.

It turns out,  _that_  love had been right in front of his face the whole time. He'd been there, right there, on the edges, patiently waiting his turn. And he's right  _here_ , now. He's right here and this one he swears he's not going to lose.

When he was seven years old, he'd decided a girl was his soulmate based on a glittery, badly made Valentine. Looking back, he thinks, his seven year old self was wrong. A boy had been his soulmate, he just got confused along the way.

 

 

_**“It takes a bit more.”** _

Scott McCall knows two things with absolute certainty. The first, is that he is and has always been hopelessly in love with Stiles Stilinski. The second, is that he's never, ever letting him go.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for readin


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